Holmestuck
by Blueshift12
Summary: This story is a Homestuck AU of BBC Sherlock. If you're a Homestuck, and have never seen Sherlock, this should still make sense, as it starts from the beginning of the Sherlock TV series. If you're a Sherlock fan, and have never read Homestuck, then this might be REALLY confusing. Sorry. Rated T for future violence, could get worse but it's tame at the moment.
1. Introductions

Chapter 1: Introductions

Your name is Holmes. Terezi Holmes. Before you is the city of Londinium, but it looks as if it is the entire planet. The city looks beautiful, _smells_ beautiful, but that is just the lie of your synesthesia. There are ugly things brewing out there, there always are. It's what you live for: the scents of the spilled colors of the hemospectrum, and the knowledge that you've helped put some criminal behind bars.

You are brought out of your thoughts by a knock at the front door. You hear Nana Hudson put down her baking pan, walk to the door, and greet the newcomer cheerfully. She is always cheerful- you have a hunch that's why everyone calls her "Nana". The man who enters greets her cordially, referring to her as ma'am, and then walks up the stairs. Nana mentions something about his new roommate, and it gives you pause. You turn to the door just as the man walks in.

He is wearing heavy boots and an old-fashioned army jacket, along with a skull t-shirt and rather short shorts. His gait has a bit of a limp, and he walks with a cane, but his back is quite straight. Clearly military, and possibly gay.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?" you blurt out, before he can introduce himself.

"Huh? I can't fathom how you know, but Afghanistan." He looks bewildered, and you try to hide your smirk. "The name is Watson. Uh, Jake Watson, in case it alluded you."

You look at his pine-scented jacket for a second before commenting. "I can't deduce names, sadly. I'm Terezi Holmes, and you're looking for a roommate. Preferably one who will put up with you gun collection, right?" He carries his hands like he should still be holding a gun, despite likely having left the war a while ago.

"Uh, yes, actually, that would be spiffy, if you'd agree." Jake appears to be someone who would normally have a bit of swagger, but you seem to have surprised him. Deductions tend to do that to people.

"Alright, it's settled then. Rent is six hundred pounds a month, making it three hundred a person, which I think should be manageable even with your small military pension. You'll get the first room on the right- oh, and tell the movers to bring the big stuff through the window. It's quite a bit bigger than the front door." He looks at you, stunned for a moment, and then nods.

"Thursday it is then, alright. You seem to be a smashing roommate, anyhow." Jake seems to be catching on quite fast. He might even be useful on cases, if he manages to tolerate you.

"Sure, I'll see you Thursday." He takes that as his cue to walk out the door. As he is leaving, you suddenly realize something has gone unmentioned. "Oh, by the way, I'm a consulting detective!" You yell after him, adding, "I hope you don't mind!"

When you're certain he's gone, you try to remember what you were doing before he showed up. It has slipped your mind, though, and so you decide to settle down with an unsolved case and a stick of red chalk. Red always tastes the best.


	2. A Study in Fuchsia Part 1: Wrong!

You are now Jade Lestrade, and you are having a bad day. It's not your worst day on the job, but the horde of journalists collected in front of you would be far less intimidating if you actually knew the answers to their questions. "Serial suicides," the issue currently taking most of your office's (and these journalists') attention, don't normally happen. Three completely unrelated people- a businessman, a teenage boy, and a politician- have all wound up dead by the same poison in strange places. It's certainly odd, but that's all that you know.

"You said these incidents are being treated as linked," says the first journalist, "Besides similar circumstances around poisons and locations, is there any other reason these incidents seem to be related?"

You take a moment to think of a response. "Well, no, not at the moment, but we are certain that if there are any other links, we will find them."

Almost immediately, every phone in the room chimes. A particularly vocal journalist blurts out the message: "It just says 'Wrong'." It's typical Terezi. Again. Sometimes she is just so immature.

It's time for damage control. "We have our best people investigating the case, so I'm sure-" You are cut off by another bout of ringing phones, and resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Ms. Detective Inspector," a new journalist is speaking now, "do you believe that the average citizen should be concerned about their well-being due to these incidents?"

"Um, there is not currently any cause for concern. Really, you'll be fine so long as you don't try to kill yourself." You find this answer to be fairly self-explanatory, and you try your best to deliver it as politely as possible. Still, a cacophony of sounds emanates from the crowd's mobile phones. This time, you look down at your own phone. The message reads: "YOU KNOW WH3R3 TO FIND M3. -T.H." You try hard not to show your frustration, and turn your attention back to the journalists.

After a few more embarrassing phone-related events, the conference is soon over, and with it leaves the reporters and cameras. As you stand in the meeting room, one of your coworkers comes up to you, perplexed.

"How does she do it?" they ask, not entirely expecting an answer.

You just shrug. "If I knew, I'd stop her."

* * *

You are now Nepeta Hooper, and you are currently standing in the morgue, watching the world's only consulting detective beat a corpse with a riding crop. You are not looking so much at the body as the detective, though. Terezi is far stronger than she lets on, and her concentration is kinda... hot. You feel your tail involuntarily begin to swish flirtily.

"You wanna maybe get a coffee later?" You ask, offhandedly.

"Sure. I like it black, two sugars." She obviously didn't get the message. "Oh, and you're wearing lipstick. You weren't wearing lipstick earlier." God, she can be so infuriating (and somehow kinda cute at the same time). Of course you're wearing lipstick, it's for her.

"So, uh, what's new with you?" At this point, you're just trying to make small talk. It's not like Ms. Holmes would notice, anyhow.

"Got a roommate." Terezi takes another whack at the corpse, then continues, "his name is Jake Watson. Interesting sort of guy." She puts the riding crop down next to the body. "I guess I'll take a pass on the coffee, actually. Jake will be moving in about half an hour from now."

With that, Terezi walks out, leaving you to wonder if you've lost your crush to some random guy they had only just met. Then again, it seems more likely that Ms. Holmes has never loved anybody at all.


	3. Excuses, Excuses (Temporary)

You, Terezi Holmes, can't believe your luck- the author of this story has yet to update despite promising themself that they would make their update schedule faster. Then again, judging on their internet history, they have a bit of homework to get done. Also, based on the number of phone calls received from nearby, it appears that they had some sort of serious family issue to attend to.

Disregarding the aggravation provided by this glacially slow update pace, you decide to give them a bit more time to update, or else you might find a better use of your time...

(Sorry guys, more is coming soon -Blueshift)


End file.
